One Year Later
by JediDreams
Summary: Vader muses on how his life has changed since Anakin Skywalker died on Mustafar.


Staring through infrared scanners set into a gleaming black faceplate, a pair of tired blue eyes gazed out across a seemingly limitless starfield. Darth Vader was very much aware of the flurry of nervous activity going on around him, but paid it no mind as he stood looking out through the main viewport of the Imperial Star Destroyer _Vengeance._ It was a good name, he reflected. Very fitting that this should be his personal battleship, with which he continued to hunt down the few stubborn Jedi that had eluded the initial Purge. Order 66 had demolished the ranks of the Jedi Order, but there were a small handful of Knights who had been assigned to missions outside the war that had escaped the Emperor's assault, and it was Vader's ongoing mission to seek and destroy them.

How long had he been here? How long had he awakened each day to search the Force for traces of his enemies, who had once made up the brotherhood of the Jedi, of which he had been a part?

One year, he realized with a heaviness he did not expect. It had only been one year since he threw back everything he had ever learned for the desperate hope of saving her. He had forfeited the lives of every creature in the galaxy for one, for his beloved. And then he had killed her.

No, no, it was Obi-Wan—Obi-Wan killed her! It was his meddling, his cursed interference that had caused Padme's death. If he hadn't forced Vader's hand and caused him to doubt his wife's loyalty, he never would have touched her, with or without his physical hands. At least, that's what he told himself every morning and every night, when he awoke and laid down with the searing agony of grief. He still grieved, still mourned her with his every waking breath, and in his dreams at night. But as long as he could blame Obi-Wan…as long as he could push the burden of guilt onto the shoulders of the man he had once loved like a father, he could bear the unquenchable bitterness of his lonely, grieving exile.

Once, more than once, he had wondered whether Palpatine had told him the truth about Padme's death. The man had lied to everyone else, and Vader was not quiet naïve enough to think that the usurping Emperor would not lie to him to get what he wanted from the ex-Jedi. Anakin had been naïve, but Anakin was dead now. Only Vader remained.

Still, he could not fully shake off the last trailing remnants of his old life. In the endless year since he had sold his soul into the Emperor's service, he had struggled through moments of regret intense enough to drive him to his knees, respirator struggling to keep up with his sobs. Over and over in his sleep, he saw the innocent faces of the younglings just before he slaughtered them, and heard the voice of one brave initiate asking what they were to do.

Once, he had even tried to fight back against what Palpatine had made him. What Obi-Wan, the Council, and the whole Jedi Order had made him. Palpatine punished him severely for that moment of overconfidence. He had to bury his conflicting emotions deep down to avoid their discovery by his new master. Only anger, pride, and wanton destruction pleased the leader of the Galactic Empire, and regret and mournful love were of no use to the Sith. Vader soon stopped wondering whether his child might have miraculously survived. The wondering was driving him mad, but even worse was the thought that Palpatine might somehow pick up on his questioning and set up his own search. The Emperor had betrayed Vader by not helping Anakin save Padme, and neither Anakin nor Vader could not stand the thought of the foul Sith getting his greedy hands on the only part of her that might remain somewhere.

And so, Darth Vader threw all his energy into the relentless search for Jedi survivors. Every Jedi he found, he turned into Obi-Wan, so that he might have the pleasure and relief of killing his old master time and time again. The real Obi-Wan was too clever in his hiding place so far, but Vader swore to himself that it would only be a matter of time before he flushed the old liar out of his hiding spot and brought him to justice for ruining Anakin's life. Maybe, just maybe then he could have some peace. When Obi-Wan was destroyed, Anakin could be forever destroyed as well. Vader was at best a broken, heartless killing machine, but if that was the only alternative to a suffering, cowering weakling named Anakin…then so be it. Padme had died, taking the best of Anakin with her. Obi-Wan had come to kill Anakin, not realizing he was already dead. It was only his ghost that remained now, feebly whispering to the hulk of Darth Vader every now and then, when nightmares of frightened younglings left him sleepless. On such occasions he brutally crushed that whisper, although a part of him always cried out when he did that. It was too late for Anakin; only Vader ruled his consciousness now.

And Vader lived under the thumb of the Emperor. This was his reward, the result of his choice that placed the good of one over the lives and rights of all. She would be ashamed of him, he realized, even his mental voice sounding melancholy through its mechanical tones. She would be so ashamed at what I did—tried to do—for her. Maybe it's best that she died before she had to know it all.

The little man dressed in trim ship's grays flitting anxiously around Vader's peripheral scanning was sweating. Vader noticed this without even focusing on the man. Sometimes, the instant terror that accompanied his presence among lesser mortals was too taxing to settle on.

"M-my lord, we are entering into orbit around the planet Belsavis. The information we have received indicates there are one or more Jedi Knights in hiding on the planet, possibly even including General Kenobi himself," the officer stammered nervously, all but wringing his hands in fearfulness. Vader did not turn from the viewport, nor did he adjust his stance in any way to indicate a response to the officer. When he spoke a moment later, the officer jumped, and Vader sensed the rapidly increased heartbeat that followed a skipped beat.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi is not down there," he rumbled in his false basso voice. "But there are other Jedi planetside. I want them captured and brought to me here. The Emperor wants some to be brought back alive, to be made examples of. It is his wish that the galaxy be reminded of the penalty for treason against the Empire." The dark implications of Vader's instructions drained the little officer's face of what little color it had previously held.

"Y-yes, m'lord," he responded weakly. "But, my lord, the reports indicate more than one Knight—perhaps as many as six, or a dozen. One Jedi Knight we could capture, but a dozen Knights, fighting for their lives…." His voice trailed off in silent terror as Vader slowly turned his head to finally face the officer.

"If your men find themselves unequal to the task, then perhaps I can find a way to…encourage them to give the Empire reason to put faith in them," he intoned coldly, refusing to flinch at the ease with which threats now rolled off his scarred tongue. Anakin Skywalker had been arrogant and cocky, but Vader was cold and merciless. Anakin's boasts were brought to life by Vader. The officer was bowing and apologizing, backing away so hastily he nearly tripped over one of the numerous mouse droids that seemed to be everywhere on the ship. Vader turned back to the viewport and crossed his arms over his metal-plated chest as the officer scurried away to bully his men into finding a way to bring the Jedi down. Obi-Wan was not on Belsavis, but Vader knew he still lived. Today, it was the end of the line for a handful of nameless Jedi fugitives. Some day, it would Obi-Wan's turn.

_One day_, Kenobi, he vowed silently. _One day your time will come, and I will rejoice in the moment when I bring you down. You will pay for what you have done to me. You will pay for this._


End file.
